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genius43:
My friends accused me of working too much and evading fun so I decided to change a few things about myself. Some claimed I had binged on more knowledge than I could ever really need.

First I started being more social than before, I also started to hang out more.

It’s funny when you look at it; because right from school days, without drawing a long bow, I was so buried in my books that some ladies thought of me as a kill joy, literally - hardly went for breaks, no after school summer trips to wherever, no parties, no sports and the list goes on.

What I did very well was read, read and read, attend tutorial classes a lot, seminars, watch history and documentaries, represent the school in competitions that involved testing of intellectuals or let’s just say debates, quizzes et.al.

By now you should have a picture of what my life was made up of already.

What you do constantly sticks with you like a dog to its owner. I carried on in that manner even after school; I was so used to working that I almost forgot if anything else existed like leisure - that's like me working and forgetting to live my life.

Some meals you taste for the first time and you take it well so you try it every now and then - when I started hanging out I kind of felt I missed work and once I had been to few spots in Lekki and Ikeja, my story took a meandering of some sort.
Soon, I was working more and hanging out more. Don’t ask me how I did it - work hard, play hard, simple!

One day, few friends of mine invited me to this party at Ikoyi… It was amazing, although I wasn’t used to that much crowd in a refined space. I survived though!

"Hi my name is Sevan..." I said introducing myself to this girl I met.
"Oookay" she mustered throwing me a rather confused look than that of one approving an ice-breaking speech.

"My friends over there,..." I seemed to be saying when she shouted
"What? I can't hear you, the music is loud"

I paused then started all over again "my friends over there, they bet I couldn't talk to the prettiest girl in here."

I noticed from a corner of her mouth a glorious smile but it seemed like she was suppressing it.

If she smiled then it was definitely a go-ahead one, a green light as my friends liked to say, perhaps.

Knowing that, I pushed my luck.

"Now that I have talked to her, I think me and you should go spend their money on some drinks or suya... what do you say?"

"Really? Is that the best you got?" she shot at me with bright eyes and straight face.

"Sadly, Yes. It's the only I have got" I replied with a pitiful look like an over pampered agege bread.

Then with another confusing and repressed smile, she motioned me to give her a minute as she wiggled out a phone from her clutch bag and typed as if to suggest she was texting someone.

For a moment I thought she was going to give me one of those scoffing laughs.

Suddenly I felt my brain tilted, I couldn't tell which way was up or down. Her beauty was obstructing my thought process, her piecing white eyes seemed menacing. A slew of questions rumbled through my head - what am I doing? What is she going to say? Have I embarrassed myself? Was that the best I could do?
The one bottle of beer I had earlier now wanted to be emptied from my body.
Clammy sweat beaded down my forehead, only when I tried to wipe it away, I found nothing. Means I was freaking out too much.
Just as I felt my gnawing pulverization, she chimed in "Mina. Call me Mina."

I might have been considered among pantheons academically but I sucked at wooing.

See, there at that party I met a girl, gorgeous, fitted in a red body con dress; straight legs, frontally endowed as behind, dark and slender built or for short what I like to call “pocket size.” She was by my side every step of the way throughout the night. Was it drinking, because we did numerous shots of different kinds of alcohol at varying degrees, talk about dancing… she was OMG a very sexy dancer - floucing and holding the fort such that I never even bothered dancing or being in the company of any other lady there that night. Cheek by jowl we were. Some people even mistook us for one newly married and happy couple; I say we were in the making.

Nothing lasts forever so did the party, after hours of deadbeat beer and skittle I took her to my place say 3am. I needed to catch few minutes rest before attending a colleague's wedding in the morning. But when we got to my place, we ended up sleeping about two hours or so later because we were doing it - started from intense kissing and ploughing of my fingers through her jet black hair as soon as we got inside the house to her grappling for something to anchor herself to a series of cold marathon and her appealing music to my ears. You know the rest...uhm, lady in the street freak in the bed.
We had to, we needed it - couldn't tell if it was the passion of the moment or the state of intoxication. That is if one gets high from a smidgen of alcohol.
Oh boy, I was in another world, it was a night to not forget in a hurry. At this point I must spare you the gory details, I’m not one to kiss and tell - if I have not done that already.

We both woke up very late, so I had to shower and hit the road. She was still sleepy so I just showed her around my apartment in case she needed anything later. Oh, she needed lots later.

After all the dancing and shouting at the wedding, if you have been to a typical Yoruba gathering you will understand I was near dead by the time I got back in the evening. I called to check on her twice and she was good so I took my time.

My mind blown to smithereens when my guest from last night was gone as did my laptop and some of my electronics, my watches and a few foot wears.
For a fleeting moment, I stood speechless and almost motionless for close to five minutes as I stared at my half empty living room. With the balloons gone up, I flinched first in denial then slouched into the cushion close by. What had I done by opening my home to a stranger? She must have had help from somewhere moving my stuff surely. I couldn’t tell my friends, I couldn’t stand being mocked for being callous or subjected to constant talks of derisory.

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